


Reach

by Pikachewy99



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles X
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikachewy99/pseuds/Pikachewy99
Summary: In which Melon is overwhelmed by the ability to share the feelios.





	

_Brainjack._

Words he thought he would never have to use, but words he had to use all the same. After all, it was important every soldier learn to use it, right? It was only in understanding it that he could fight it, and the thought of having himself be turned against his comrades… It sent shivers down his spine. A few days before, the Curator had been cleared to be trained in the art, partially due to recommendation from Wolf, and partially due to the good track record he had managed to build up over the past few weeks. Melon sighed. It was hard, being a good soldier. If he could have it the way he wanted, he'd have chased his dream back on Earth. But as it stood, NLA had no room for artists, for dreamers. At least, not yet. Hopefully he would stay alive to see such a musicless era end. Sure he had the odd job of playing for receptions once in awhile, but one could only play 'here comes the bride' or some song-about-abuse-that-people-think-is-a-love-song before wanting to rip their hair out. But that was enough about that.

Melon pushed the door in front of him open, and squinted against the white light of the small training facility before him.

"Melon, right?" Against one of the walls was a bench, where a woman was arranging various knives. "It's not a often we get someone who wants to learn- and is approved to learn- how to brainjack. Usually people think it too unorthodox… Or they plain out want to use the skill to harm other citizens." The woman seemed friendly for the most part, save for the scowl that made it onto her face during the last comment. "What prompted you to come here anyways?"

His lips twitched. She already knew the answer to this, didn't she? After all, it was part of the paperwork he had to do. Perhaps she just wanted to hear it herself. Well, whatever it was, she was giving him an expectant look. Melon shifted uncomfortably.

"I just wanted to add another skill to my arsenal. It never hurts to be well rounded in skills. And. Uh. I want to know how to fight back in case the enemy… Well… you know…"

For a few seconds, the woman gave him an unreadable stare. Melon gulped. The tension in the air was almost palpable. But after another short (yet heart wrenching) lapse of silence, the woman grinned and waved him over.

"The name's Tracy. Don't be shy, there's some stuff you need to be briefed on before we can actually get started." After a moment's hesitation, Melon meekly walked over. This prompted her to laugh. "You seem like a good kid. Loosen up a little, yeah?"

The Curator grumbled under his breath, and Tracy flashed a smile before gesturing to the arrangement of knives on the table. "Here, we have a selection of knives from each of the AMs. Brainjacking doesn't necessarily need a knife, but it's much easier to do if you have a channel to project it from. Knives are lightweight, and are constructed to help amplify your mental strength. Generally, as a beginner, you're going to need one to be able to do anything. Humans weren't really meant to be using 'mental power'. Though we're mims now, it's still hard for us to conceptualize how brainjacking works. It helps to get an image in your head, but I'll get to that later. For now, pick a knife."

Melon turned his eyes towards the knife and found himself… Having difficulty picking one. His eyebrows knitted together.

“Having trouble?”

He nodded.

Sighing, Tracy looked over the knives herself before putting one in the Curator’s hands. “Might as well start with this. Can’t go wrong with Sakuraba, right?”

“R-Right.”

The woman flashed another grin before equipping herself. “So, tell me, Melon, have you ever been brainjacked before?”

Melon gulped. “No.”

“Well, prepare yourself, because it helps to know how it feels to be able to use it- and fight it. Ready?”

Hesitation. Then, a nod.

And with that, he started to feel a strange crawling sensation lingering on the edge of his conscience. It was like a bug, trying to worm its way into his conscience. It aimed to steal his secrets, to control his body, his mind. He cringed, instinctively pulling his _self_ away from the virus. There was no way in hell he was letting anyone into his thoughts. Tracy laughed at his expression, the sensation fading away.

“Feels weird, right? Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything.”

Of course. It was against protocol to peek into other people’s heads, but it sent a shiver down Melon’s spine to know that it was possible. Not all BLADEs had the morality to follow a protocol. He just hoped that those who knew how to do it had been properly screened… Or that he would be able to guard himself if the situation ever arose. Melon shook his head. There was no use in wondering about what if scenarios.  

“Alright then, with that out of the way, your turn.” She smiled at the perplexed look that came across the other’s face. “Imagine that sensation you felt right now. You instinctively pulled back from it, right? Instead, try to push forward, and out of your mind’s eye. Lots of people picture strings, or a spear, try to imagine your thoughts, your command, extending beyond yourself and manifesting in a form where it can impact someone else. Other than visualizing, it sometimes help to vocalize it, or maybe even point the knife to get a better sense of what you’re ‘aiming’ for.”

Melon blinked once. Twice. That was a lot to take in. Tracy smiled. “Relax, take your time. We still have a good 50 minutes left before the session’s over.”

50 minutes. What if he wasn’t able to succeed in 50 minutes? What if he had no affinity for it at all? What if he just wasted 50 minutes of his life _embarrassing_ himself? He bit his lip. Okay. Give thoughts a form. Like… A sword? A lance? A potato? No, no, maybe a knife, like a knife in his hand? He furrowed his eyebrows, giving the trainer an intense gaze. One second. Five. Ten. Nothing. His mouth twitched. The whole knife thing wasn’t working. He only felt stupid staring and expecting something to happen.

Okay, what if he… Pointed? He suppressed the urge to cringe at himself when he pointed the knife at the woman. It was funny, how calm she was despite the fact that she was literally at knife point. A sheathed knife, but… A knife, nevertheless. Okay, so the knife was an extension of his arms, and the arm was an extension of his thoughts? He supposed it felt like he had a little more direction, but still. Nothing.

“Brainjack?” It came out more like a question, rather than a command, and was uttered weakly. Ugh. That was stupid. He lowered the knife, feeling slightly mortified. “This isn’t working.”

“Hmm.” Tracy put a hand over her chin. Melon appreciated her calmness at what he thought had been a terribly embarrassing moment. She was a trainer. She was probably used to it. Or maybe she wasn’t, and he was an odd case. “You felt nothing? Absolutely nothing?”

Melon nodded.

“Strange…” She smiled. “But no worries, perhaps I’m just approaching this the wrong way. Everyone’s different, so we just need to find a way it’ll work for you. Try thinking of something that makes you happy? Sad? Angry, maybe? If the other ways don’t work, sometimes emotion will. After all, emotion and thought make up the ‘will’, right? Perhaps thinking in those terms would be best for you.”

Emotion. Well, he had a lot of those. Too many, actually. He frowned before nodding again. Okay. Angry. Well, all he needed to think of was HB’s punchable face. God, his smug smile and his ‘I-am-better-than-you’ attitude pissed him  off. _Superior my ass_ , he thought bitterly. And with that, it was like a spark of his conscience seemed to leap out of his mind and into the other’s. Tracy blinked with surprise (probably at the choice curse words that had entered her head) before smiling again. “That was it! Keep thinking, and maybe you’ll be able to make the ‘connection’! Try thinking of someone important to you!”

Okay, happy? Well, there was Rourke… Chloris… Mina… and… Gen… Dear friends, friends that he wanted to protect, that he had to protect. People that made existing on Mira not so bad. He focused that feeling, that desire to protect, and pushed it outwards, where it washed gently over Tracy, like a wave lapping at a shore. Something was there, yet still… It was fuzzy. Fluctuating. He barely felt the connection, the presence of the other, and part of his mind wanted to break it, to pull away from the distant, unreadable thoughts. The other part wished to push forward. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t enough to think of them. He wasn’t good enough yet. He could feel his emotions faltering, the connection wavering… How? How could he stop it from disappearing completely?

Disappearing.

Gone.

Completely.

Forever.

Names, faces, places, that he had let himself forget. They flooded his mind, and soon came cascading out. In an instant, the connection had grown strong, and the flow of anger, guilt, anguish, and sorrow hit Tracy like a tidal wave. Melon found himself struggling with his- hers?- Their emotions as it all seeped out. It was too much, he felt too much, he was suddenly painfully aware of the person in front of him. The only thing louder than the tumult of emotion was the choked sob that escaped the trainer’s mouth as she drowned in the sea of foreign emotion.

His memories, his feelings, they were not hers. They were too much, she hadn’t expected them to come on in a sudden flood. She gasped for air, for solace from the sea of unfamiliar sadness, from the thousands of tears that weren’t hers. But she found herself struggling, cold hands, emotions, kept dragging her down, deeper and deeper, tugging each and every limb to a cold standstill.

Melon stood, horrified. It was like their emotions had pooled into one. Or rather, his had flooded hers. He didn’t know how to help her. He didn’t know how to help her. Panic built in his throat as Tracey’s conscience drifted farther away, into a stormy ocean that she did not know how to navigate. And ocean that Melon had sailed on for far too long. This was his fault. His fault. He didn’t know how to stop it, how to take the feelings back, how to make her forget.

It wasn’t long until others rushed in, and he was forcefully cut off from the other’s mind. Her gaze flickered back to reality, but it was filled with alarm. Fear. Remnants of his feelings were still mingled with hers. They were still mingling. He could feel the stares on his back. Literally. Feel. The suspicion, the distrust, the anger. In quiet voices they consoled the trainer, asking if she was alright. Had he broken protocol? No. She had just been unprepared. Melon looked back, and although she had defended him, he saw the anxiety in her eyes. He could touch it. The wariness. Caution. His own fear, disappointment, sadness… He felt it all around him, almost blanketing the room. Anger, confusion, defiance? How could he turn it off? Unhanding the knife did little to help, he just couldn’t… He couldn’t shut it off. He couldn’t stop hearing, stop feeling. He didn’t want to be brushing their minds, invading their space, reading their emotions, but there he was, listening to each and every one of them.

What the hell was going on? He trembled slightly. He didn’t feel it before, but his head ached. From stress. From the strain of re-experiencing those emotions. From the pressure he felt while under everyone’s scrutiny.

Finally, one of them sighed. A stern looking man with graying hair. “Come. We have a lot to discuss.”

 


End file.
